


Who Cares about some German Guy's Cat?

by Elthadriel



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elthadriel/pseuds/Elthadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grif and Simmons have an almost adult-like conversation following the season 8 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Cares about some German Guy's Cat?

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally wrote something for RvB. 
> 
> On that, all the RvB character voices are a bitch, so much harder to write for than I thought they would be.

It was the unadulterated affection that surprised Tucker the most.

He had seen them show affection for each other before but it was usually limited to offering the other a hand when standing up or setting up camp side up side. They were almost always together but they were rarely caring or even friendly.

Once, Tucker had seen Grif drop his head onto Simmons shoulder one evening while food was being prepared. Simmons had grumbled slightly, calling Grif a lazy bastard, before throwing an arm around Grif’s shoulders. It had last almost two minutes before Grif had murmured something that had caused Simmons to shove him off and move to sit next to Sarge to sulk while Grif laughed at him.

Grif and Simmons were, in public at least, the exact opposite of affectionate.

Now though, Simmons dragged Grif away from the edge of the cliff and pulled off first his own helmet and then Grif’s, hauling him into a desperate and frankly messy kiss. 

Even Grif looked surprised.

Church coughed and Tucker remembered himself. He looked away, deciding that the pile of snow off to the right was in fact very interesting.

\---

Everyone sat around in mostly silence as they waited for someone higher up to come and clean up the mess they had helped create. Wash had stripped out of his own armour and pulled on Churches while Tucker glared at him as if that would somehow undo what had been done.

Grif had thrown Tucker a sympathetic look and moved away from the Blues to what had been wordlessly allocated as the Red side of the fire. The Blues had lost more on this trip than they had and while the Reds could sympathise they had no real role in their mourning.

Besides, he had his own his own stuff to worry about. Simmons was gripping his hand, and had been since Grif’s near death experience, as if the world would end if he let go and Grif should probably do something about that even if it meant he had to break their ‘no emotional crap except for straight after sex’ rule. Unless he could somehow convince Simmons to sneak off to have sex with him.

He looked at Simmons for only a moment before dismissing that line of thought.

Simmons allowed Grif his hand back long enough for them both to set up their sleeping rolls side by side and strip off at least some of their armour. Simmons took his hand back as they settled on their sleeping rolls in a position that might have been called spooning if it hadn’t been the pair of them.

Grif for once was tactful enough to not comment on the fact that the hand Simmons as clinging to with such ferocity was the same one that had slipped from his grip hours before almost causing Grif’s death to a very large fall. 

Neither slept or made any pretence to and Simmons moved restlessly, shifting in Grif’s arms, eventually turning completely so he and Grif were facing. 

Normally Grif would have bitched about it, claiming Simmons was keeping him awake no matter how untrue that might be; Grif could sleep through anything. They argued more as a matter of routine than because they necessarily disagreed. Today however, now that the adrenaline had completely faded and the reality that he had almost died was no longer dismissible, Grif didn’t have the energy to fight. 

“Why didn’t you look over the edge?” Grif asked after a while, noticing with something that might have been fondness the way the human half of Simmons contorted uncomfortably while the robotic parts remained emotionless and unmoving.

“Because Sarge told me not to.” Simmons said.

“Really?” Grif raised his eyebrows. “Because it seemed like you would have missed me like a shit ton if I hadn’t been okay. No way are you that much of a kiss ass that you weren’t looking cause Sarge told you not to.”

“Shut up,” Simmons muttered; shifting a little closer.

“Come on. What was the real reason?”

Simmons sighed and he looked a horrible mix of tired and old that Grif hadn’t seen on him at any other point during this long ass war.

“Because if I looked and you weren’t there it was over. You would be dead and I didn’t know if I could handle that.” Simmons admitted softly. “As long as I didn’t look you could still be alive right? It’s like Schrödinger's cat.”

“Who has a cat?”

“Schrödinger. He was an Austrian physicist. He proposed that-” Simmons caught Grif’s blank and slightly mocking gaze. “Never mind,” He muttered darkly.

“I’m sure it was very interesting.” Grif said and pulled Simmons closer to him, pulling their blankets more over themselves.

“Shut up.” 

“No, really, I’m fascinated.” 

“You’re a fucking dick.” Simmons murmured.

“No, I’m fucking Dick, there’s a difference.” Grif sounded sickeningly proud of himself despite the fact he had made this joke many times before.

Simmons groaned loudly and dug his fingers into Grif’s side but there was no real aggression in the attack and after a little squirming they settled back against one another.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Simmons admitted, whispering like it was a confession of love; which for them, it practically was.

\---

“Man,” Tucker said at last, “I think I liked it better when they pretended they hated each other.”

Wash followed his gaze.

“You know you don’t have to listen in, or even watch them,” He pointed out.

“I know, but it’s like when you see a dog peeing on a baby; it’s gross but you just can’t look away”

Tucker could tell Wash was making a face behind his helmet, “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who feels that way.”

“Church liked babies,” Caboose announced sadly.

“Dude, that’s not even a little bit true,” Tucker said but he was more subdued. 

Wash sighed.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep. And Tucker, stop staring at them, it’ll only give you nightmares that I don’t want to hear about.” He said, turning away from Caboose and Tucker.

Tucker took a final look over at the pair of Reds. For what it was worth, at least they had both made it through; they deserved to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, the "fucking dick" comment is my least favourite pun of all time and I will never forgive myself for using it.


End file.
